


Berries and Cream

by IchiBri



Series: JMMonth2017 [4]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Witch!Marco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 17:15:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11235579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IchiBri/pseuds/IchiBri
Summary: To start the day off right, Marco enchants his and Jean's breakfast with a touch of magic.JeanMarcoMonth2017 - Prompt Everyday Magic/Light





	Berries and Cream

Being married to a witch made every day an adventure of unpredictability.  Jean never knew if he’d walk in to a potion commission gone awry and globs of the gooey liquid dripping from the ceiling, or if he’d stub his toe on a new potted plant added to their already outrageous number of plants.  But there was one part of his day he could always count on to remain a constant guiding force.

Breakfast.

The scent of coffee wafted down the hall and slithered under the bedroom door.  Its aura floated through the air in a streak of pale light – reddish in color, almost brown.  It swirled like a billow of smoke before descending to feather beneath Jean’s nose.

With his next inhale, the aura flooded Jean’s nostrils and sparked his sense of smell to life.  He breathed in a deep sigh, reveling in the crisp scent, as he awoke.  Bleary-eyed and drowsy, Jean slipped out of bed.  His toes curled into the soft fibers of the carpet as he stretched the kinks out of his shoulders with a yawn.

Like every other morning, Jean followed the pale streak of light to the kitchen.  As he absentmindedly rubbed the sleep from an eye, Jean sat upon a stool at the kitchen island – the wood cool against the skin his boxer briefs didn’t cover.

“Good morning, my sunshine,” Marco cheerily greeted.  On the tips of his toes, Marco leaned across the island to press a kiss to Jean’s forehead.  When he pulled back, he set down a steaming mug in front of Jean.

“Mornin’,” Jean mumbled.  He drank a small sip of the coffee, letting its near-scalding heat seep into his bones.  Breathing a contented sigh, Jean leaned an elbow on the countertop and watched Marco work through half-lidded eyes.

Food was magic, or at least that was what Marco had said when they first started dating all those years ago.  Jean had never considered food to be anything other than sustenance, but Marco showed him the light – figuratively and literally.  To this day, Marco insisted on cooking, and Jean never turned down the opportunity to watch his husband’s magic unfold.

It started with Jean’s morning coffee and Marco’s tea.  Familiarity – Marco had explained – could ease stress and bring stability to one’s day.  The liquids’ auras drifted upwards and mingled in the space above, dancing together but never merging, and Jean marveled at the display.

As Marco measured batter ingredients, more auras colored the air.  With his every touch, he drew the pale light from the food.  A soft yellow from the flour, stark white from the baking powder, a glittering pink from the sugar.  When he cracked an egg, its yellowish green aura swirled from its shell.

“So, Darling, what could you use today?”

Three years of marriage and four of dating, yet Marco’s pet names for him always brought a blossoming warmth to Jean’s chest.  Jean lightly hummed as he thought.  “I’ve got a big meeting with the higher-ups this afternoon, so some confidence would be nice.”

“Confidence it is then,” Marco smiled.

When Marco whisked the batter together, their auras whirled and twirled.  They spiraled around each other until the streaks of light melded into a single golden wisp.

Jean watched as Marco scooped the batter into a piping bag and piped a pattern onto a cast iron skillet.  Even the cookware was of great importance.  As Jean had learned, iron symbolized growth and courage, strength and protection.  It gave those qualities to the food cooked upon it.

As the batter heated and cooked, its golden wisp darkened to the color of honey.  It pounced and jumped through the air like a wild rabbit as the butter in the skillet sizzled.

Marco flipped a pair of fluffy pancakes onto two plates.  He topped them with a dollop of fresh whipped cream before counting out blueberries and banana slices – exactly nine blueberries and three separate pairs of banana slices per plate.

The fruits’ auras spiraled upward – the purple and yellow joining the mix of color in their kitchen.  The streaks of light wove around one another, slithering and coiling like snakes, dancing and twirling like ballroom couples.

Jean smiled as Marco set one of the plates in front of him.  “Good fortune in partnership,” he took note of the bananas as Marco rounded the island to sit beside him.

“And happiness and positivity,” Marco added.

“Of course,” Jean chuckled.  “How could I forget the color magic?”

Jean cut into the pancakes, his fork slicing through a corner of the sigil marking its golden-brown surface.  With his first bite, he felt the confidence flow through him.  His next brought with it the sweetness of banana and tartness of a blueberry – positivity and tranquility.  He hummed his satisfaction as he swallowed.

“Remind me again, what’s whipped cream symbolize?” Jean asked around a bite of fluffy goodness.

Marco swooped to press a kiss to Jean’s cheek.  “A little fun to the day,” he said with a playful wink and a lighthearted laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me @ichibri on tumblr and twitter


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